Freak Out - Sobbing - WTF - OMG - I Don't Even Understand, And You Will Think This Is Silly

Today, while pleasant in aspect, was not my day. Against plans, I decided to roll.

Now, there's only one bowling alley in town, and it suits me just fine, because they are the best. It's old, cracked, well oiled (before league) and familiar.

It's the kind of place I can leave my wallet in the pit and hit the restroom and I never even worry about someone stealing my shit.

Say what you will about the South, but this Just Happened:

I'm rolling with three different balls, trying to find a happy medium. Three beers and five sets in, I'm thinking "I should really get the guy to tell me the weights on these balls, so I'll know what to look for, though it's probably the elusive 10lb ball, talked of in myths and legends.

The owner walks over to me and says, "Girl, how many balls you trying to bowl with?"

I explain my situation, which is: I'm outta shape, I have small hands, and the light balls don't carry enough weight to strike. But the heavy balls kill my hip. (Bowlers know).

I mention I used to bowl with a green house ball, not the yellow letter 12 pounder, but the other one. He knows it: the 9 lb green. Gone the way of the dodo, almost.

"Well, lemme see. Now I have an idea," he says. Disappears into the back (the sacred holy bowling ball space). Halfway through my fifth sixth seventh whatever set, he hands me a ball. Pink, blue, and black, like a livid bruise.

"This is 10lbs, try it."

I have a beer and roll a little more. My hip is killing me. My knees are tired. But I've got a good grip on this 10lb. It's not the final weight I'll bowl with, but I can work with it. Put a wicked spin on it a few times without really trying.

I finish up one game and one beer over my original intent. It's all good. I've been trying to make this a McConauDay, though I have quite been able to pull it off. My hip hurts. My knees ache. I'll probably be done in for sure tomorrow. I still haven't eaten. I still haven't cleaned the room or fridge. I still haven't located the Christmas gift cards that I just realized today were missing.

You might imagine it's hard to get Zen and Bowl Right with a brain like this. You'd be right.

Anyhoo, I bowl my final and break 120, which was my goal. A sad goal, but still. I'm thinking crazy things, like how I should really get my own ball, even though I'm totally broke-ass and didn't even try to do that when I had money.

I carry the ball back up to the front, because it's obviously not a regular house ball: it's all shiny and pretty.

The owner cashes me out, and we talk of California (which everybody wants to dog on) and Zen bowling and the world. He pulls out a box and puts the ball I've been using into it. He slides the box across the counter to me.

"Here ya go. Somebody donated this so go ahead and have it. I know you'll use it."

Dude.

Seriously.

He just *gave* me a bowling ball.

I almost cried.

And then I did when I made it home.

I'm sure it seems silly, but good things never happen to me. I'm never rewarded for my loyalty or patience. The surprises in my life are mostly, almost all, negative. I'm not a lucky person.

But today I got a bowling ball for free. From a guy who remembers me even though I don't live here anymore. At an alley I almost didn't go to today.

Fuck a duck. I'll happily take my small miracles where I can.